


between the summer shadows

by myriadslashes



Category: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Spoilers, covers the in-between of ch80 and ch81 so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:36:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadslashes/pseuds/myriadslashes
Summary: A few steps backwards, and Power sees it. A lucky ice-cream stick, with the word 'Winner' neatly printed lengthwise. It's on the ground amongst the filth, split in half. Someone likely walked over it.The sight makes her sick, and she doesn't know why.Power picks up a call.
Relationships: Denji & Hayakawa Aki & Power, Power & Makima
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	between the summer shadows

She doesn't like it when the house is empty.

It's only been a few weeks (maybe a month, Power doesn't keep track of things like that) since she's started living here. A bit more than that since Denji came into possession of a modest enough amount of money that _let_ him rent the place for both of them. An uncomfortably short amount of time since Aki…

Power frowns. That was one thought too many spent on a human. An unneeded weight on her shoulders.

She pushes her fingers further into Nyako's soft coat, the cat laid out and stretching on her lap.

In any case, she isn't too familiar yet with the layout of the rooms, spots where the floorboards creak and corners where Nyako likes to curl up. Being here alone gives Power the creeps -- if not because of the bareness of her surroundings (loneliness? no way, Power isn't lonely) then because of the ringing silence that floods her ears.

The latter is a new development -- Power used to like the quiet, because it meant more space for her to use her own voice. She would hum to herself, sing, narrate her every move in her head or under her breath (or even out loud, if her companion would tolerate it.). Yet perhaps due to her days spent as a housemate, as someone bound to live mostly in the presence of another, she has come to appreciate the rest of the world's noise.

(She thinks she should turn on the television, just for the static, but that would mean giving in to the silence, and Power doesn't give in to anything.)

She and Denji squabble over almost every little thing (even if she _could_ use the worse controller, who said she had to?) and the sound of it, although absolutely grating, has become entirely familiar. Especially now that they spend nearly all of their time together, working or eating or playing games. There's practically nothing they _don't_ share, being a constant presence in each other's worlds.

Lost her memories, it finally occurs to her after a while that all she hears is the sound of her own breathing. No scrape of shoes coming up to the front door. No jingling of the house keys.

Denji has been gone for more than an hour on his ice-cream run.

_What, are you worrying that much about him?_ She asks herself, _what happened to you?_

Nyako's falling asleep. Power gently places the feline beside her on the couch. They'd taken some of the furniture along with them when they moved, so that did help to alleviate the newness of the environment. 

(That's where Denji sits. That's where Aki would sit if he were here.)

 _Stop that_ , she tells herself, tearing her gaze away from that particular corner. The two of them still refuse to sit in it, leaving it perpetually unoccupied in an unspoken agreement. _This is about Denji._

_If something happens to him, you and Nyako will both be homeless!_

She decides she likes that thought better than the rest that cloud her head. The others make her feel queasy and breathless and not unlike how she felt in the presence of the dark.

Sufficiently motivating, a simple sentiment that concerns only her and her cat. That's how it's always been -- first just her, and then _them_ , against the world.

_So where could he be?_

Both of them don't own cell phones, their worlds so intertwined and compact that there's no need for them, so Power's only course of action is to go look for him at the store.

She goes through all the motions, making sure to take the keys, draping a long coat over herself for the cold, picking out a pair of shoes --

_...It's nighttime. Pitch black outside._

Power's fingers freeze around the doorknob.

_He's going to come back any minute. It's not worth it._

The strength to resist flows in her veins, pumps through her heart. Her surroundings feel larger than before.

Behind her, the house telephone rings.

* * *

The cord's too short, so she'll be forced to stand there while taking the call.

Power watches it ring and rattle in place for a few more seconds. The sound's piercing, bright in the spacious room.

One, two, three, four. She tilts her head. Five, six, seven, eight.

The caller persists.

She walks over and picks the phone up with an uncertain hand. Could be anyone. Maybe it's Denji from a public booth. Does he even remember their house number?

" _Hey!!_ "

Power takes the chance that he does. Of course, who else would be calling at this hour? When has she been wrong?

" _Where are you_?! If you don't come ba --"

The other end of the line crackles to life loud and clear, cutting through her sentence easily. The words she intended to say die in her throat.

"...Power?"

She's alert now. That tone was recognizable anywhere. Fire over frost, melting or freezing you depending on the circumstances.

It feels like an icicle to the chest, just knowing who it is.

And it had to be at this time, too.

"Makima," says Power, and hesitates. "It's past working hours."

She has to bite back a _you're not supposed to be calling_ \--the leader of their Hunter division has started to eat at Power's nerves more than she'd like to admit, partly because of how enamored Denji is with her. There's no jealousy in that apprehension, either -- she doesn't view Denji like that, and she thinks _anyone_ sane would sense something amiss if they were in her shoes. "Is there some sort of emergency?"

Her voice has gradually lost its brasher edge over… let's say, recent events. Now it comes out at a moderate volume, even and cautious around beings she's not familiar with. Or terrified of.

"No, nothing like that." In the background there are faint noises -- sounds like pets playing around. Normally having a pet would increase someone's standing within Power's mind (she's leading by example, after all) but the thought of Makima having multiple canines doing her bidding makes her skin crawl. "I just wanted to let you know that Denji's with me. We're at my house, so you don't have to worry." The icicle sinks in deeper, white-hot crystals. "In fact, I'd like to invite you to come over as well. You know where it is?"

Power allows the pause to stretch long and taut. She's always regarded Denji as one of the smarter ones, living life on his own pace and staunchly unaffected by others' paths. He harbours a certain detachment from his actions, a disconnect from his humanity that matches her own, which makes whatever he does more effective. It's that lacuna in heart and soul that makes the both of them who they are -- though it's a pity that Denji's still chained to his desires, carnal or romantic or otherwise. A vulnerable Denji is one that just _needs_. That probably was exactly how Makima kept him wrapped around her finger.

If he's going to stay there overnight -- the thought (scares? nah) makes her _nervous_ , like her encounter with the darkness. Trapped.

Power thinks back to Aki (an occurrence that manifests -- she reluctantly admits to herself -- almost daily), and how he'd discouraged Denji's pursuit of her from the start. Decked him in the face, as he so recounted one night when the younger man was snoring away beside them. So it was a point of interest later on, in Aki's own sleep, that Power would hear phrases whispers of the devil's name on his lips, a twisted longing for a woman that (in Power's esteemed opinion) never did deserve him.

He was sane, and entirely human -- honest to a fault, weighted with determination, sliced through with flaws and insecurities. All his missing parts he was desperate to fill patched up with things that had to be force-fit.

Power thinks Aki had always seemed a bit lost, even as he tried his best between balancing his work and parenting the two of them. His dedication to his job leading him to miss out on things elsewhere. His peers like Himeno and the Angel (Power may appear loud and impulsive, but she _is_ nonetheless observant) would give him peace, except only temporarily. Power and Denji had both hoped they could help him, despite their differences -- or maybe even _because_ of them -- but destiny decided otherwise.

Either way, Denji can't suffer the same fate.

She swallows, makes an effort to choose her words carefully. "Yep, I remember. What... am I coming for?"

Makima replies smoothly, like she'd had this conversation all planned out. Power wouldn't put it past her.

"Nothing in particular, but I feel Denji would like your company." Power imagines she's smiling that usual ethereal smile of hers, only a few degrees from becoming hauntingly macabre. "It's his birthday tomorrow, isn't it? You can bring a little something over."

Power does faintly recall him mentioning that. _"I'm turning seventeen soon,"_ he'd said one night, muffled due to the pillow Power was using to try and sleep in peace, _"and, you know, I already have a real place to live, and edible food, and everything. So that's good. I'm just missing a girlfr --"_

 _"Get a less predictable line,"_ she'd complained. Then she'd quietly asked him for his birthday, and waited half a minute for him to remember the exact date. (She's long forgotten hers.)

And _then_ she'd promptly set it aside in her mind, never to think about it.

"Oh," is what Power says now, into the receiver, "Right. Yeah." She switches the handset to her other ear in an attempt to feel more casual. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's preoccupied."

The Power earlier in the year would've laughed at her for this, but she feels genuine dread at the statement -- ambiguous and wholly unelaborated on. She fears not just for the sake of herself, but for someone else.

There's only one way she'll sleep soundly tonight.

"Okay," she gets out, evenly as she can. "All right. I'll be there."

She counts her heartbeats to keep herself occupied.

"Great," says Makima. Power's grip on the handset tightens.

"See you."

The line goes dead.

* * *

Outside, it's just as dark as she thought it would be. A blanket interrupted by the streetlamps placed few and far between. 

Her destination isn't all that far away, which is a relief. When she'd first stepped out of the house she was _terrified._ Being the only person around amplified the shadows such that she felt entirely enclosed and suffocated. Closing her eyes (although still dark, she could trust that nothing was behind her eyelids) helped somewhat but did not render her immune to walking into obstacles. So now Power's attempting to focus entirely on her task, keeping out the distractions and the niggling feeling that there are eyes trained on her back.

Step one: Cake.

*

It sounds strange in theory and even in practice, but perhaps if she arrived with cake for Denji, he'd be more inclined to leave with her. And in the off-chance that whatever he was being subjected to there was entirely innocent, they could have cake and have an early celebration together. It would work out. It would be… quite nice, if that were the case, actually.

Power shakes her head, wipes clear her thoughts. _You know how to purchase something. You've decided to do it. Pick one and go._

She reaches the store soon enough, having looked behind her countless times and not seen a thing, except a few stragglers returning home. The tension in her shoulders releases a little upon seeing the familiar sight of air-conditioned rows and aisles.

Still, as Power pulls open the glass door and makes her way to peruse the confectionery, she's not all there. Distracted.

She can't help but keep turning thoughts over in her head, about the mundaneness of this act, about how momentarily it was in the past that the three of them would go grocery-shopping together -- even if it _was_ chaotic, between Power complaining about having to discern the good fruits from the bad ones and Denji being all too interested in the maximum speed of a trolley, it was also comforting. They were a group. Insects stuck to the same flypaper.

There's an ache in her chest that's unfamiliar to her.

(In the aisle a little ways away, she sees the _onigiri_ she'd asked Denji to get. One break in the otherwise neat row -- so he'd remembered, after all. When had he broken from his intended path?)

Power grits her teeth and concentrates and picks a cake that's simple. Relatively. Strawberries and candles and a chocolate placard that wishes Denji well. The kind that Aki would say is standard for such celebrations. Denji would have no reason to complain. He likes most of anything and everything even remotely decent-tasting. And even if he did complain, Power hopes the act itself might help to cheer him up.

The money from her jacket pocket's crumpled, but the cashier accepts it. Asks if she wants to get a pack of matches, too -- she nods.

She's reluctant to leave the tiled floors and fluorescent lights, but they're closing soon anyway, so she knows she can't stay. Out she goes, items in hand. Gives herself a pat on the back, because no one else is around to.

Now… the other thing.

Step two: Get there.

*

The rather grand establishment where Makima and Denji are is bright and prominent on the horizon, but its lighting doesn't quite reach her. So Power starts to regard each streetlamp as a checkpoint. It's getting harder to traverse the distances between them, but she manages.

Some of the street lights have benches nearby -- empty at this time. She's likely rested on them before, on impromptu self-declared breaks, to certain people's discontent. They're the same type, all around. Wood and iron and accumulated chips from over the years.

A small puddle of indistinct muck blocks her path as she passes another one of them by -- she has to swerve a bit out of the way. On second thought, though, it gives her pause, so she turns back.

A few steps backwards, and Power sees it. A lucky ice-cream stick, with the word ' _Winner_ ' neatly printed lengthwise. It's on the ground amongst the filth, split in half. Someone likely walked over it.

The sight makes her sick, and she doesn't know why.

She (attempts to) blink away the image of it in her head, and continues on her way.

*

It might be because she's making an effort to not think about _anything_ too much these days, but before Power realizes it she's already arrived at Makima's doorstep.

The inexplicable sense of apprehension emanating from the closed door is palpable.

She should light the candles. It'd be sad if she presented him with an unlit cake.

Her fingers are unsteady. _Careful, don't burn yourself_. His voice sounds just as annoyed and firm as she remembers.

It takes a while, but Power successfully lights all the wax without too much trouble.

The flames waver in the air, threatening to go out -- despite that, the candles are already starting to melt. 

She eyes the doorbell.

Who would come to the door? Power doesn't know what she'd prefer. Makima coming to receive her would be cause for concern. On the other hand, the last time Denji answered the door, it quickly turned into one of the worst days of her life. _Their_ lives.

Holding the base of the cake in one hand, she presses the button with the other.

_Ding dong._

(She's relieved to hear only one instance of the jingle ring out.)

Power waits for twenty-five seconds, cold despite her clothing, heart in her mouth.

The door swings open.

" _Denji_ ," she says, shaky, unsure how to react.

He looks less lively, hair more messy than it usually is. The most striking part of his appearance is his eyes -- they look confused, in a trance.

His gaze at her is empty.

She's faintly aware of Makima coming up behind him, hands raised, but she's still frozen. Waiting for Denji to reply, invite her in, _anything_ \--

What should she do? What sort of advice would --

_"Bang_. _"_

...

( _Too late,_ is all she comes up with. She's lost even the energy to scream in her own head. 

The hole in her torso burns as she's dragged back down to nothingness.)

**Author's Note:**

> still reeling from reading all of csm in like 3 days and i just had to get something out... unbeta'd but i hope it's still fine! these later chapters + the snowball chapter were so painful but so good. i already miss power (and denji and aki and their relationships) so this happened. thank you for reading <3


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